octopied:SpdrJay: Every time I see one of the neighborhood chickens I say hi and wonder if they have the slightest clue that I've eaten thousands of their kin....

Heh. My dad has 8 lovebirds, and I'll eat chicken in front of them when I go there. Keeps 'em in line, I say.

'Round here we've got a large number of very large ravens, and trust me, they have zero problems with having their "kinfolk" for dinner, live or cooked. Mind you, the intelligence difference between ravens and chickens is like that between Albert Einstein and a typical Tea Partier. They probably consider chickens something like mutant retarded third cousins or something.

cynicalbastard:octopied: SpdrJay: Every time I see one of the neighborhood chickens I say hi and wonder if they have the slightest clue that I've eaten thousands of their kin....

Heh. My dad has 8 lovebirds, and I'll eat chicken in front of them when I go there. Keeps 'em in line, I say.

'Round here we've got a large number of very large ravens, and trust me, they have zero problems with having their "kinfolk" for dinner, live or cooked. Mind you, the intelligence difference between ravens and chickens is like that between Albert Einstein and a typical Tea Partier. They probably consider chickens something like mutant retarded third cousins or something.

I have 4 chickens.

One of them is absolutely insane, but she's the smartest out of the bunch. Somewhat trainable too.

This is like the 40,000th time I've seen one of these stories since I held my daughter by the ankles while she dove face first into a sewer to rescue baby ducks.

We were on the way somewhere when we noticed a duck in the middle of the street. Since we live in the part of suburban Detroit with no lakes or rivers, we thought that was a little strange. I mean, yeah, we see ducks from time to time, perhaps during migration, but they generally get the hell out of the street when a car is coming. This one wouldn't move an inch. I don't know why I decided to pull over - she just seemed like she in distress. When we approached her, she quacked frantically, and that's when my daughter heard the peeps coming from the bowels of the street. She peeked into the holes of the manhole, and sure enough, there were three little chicks paddling for life. It being a Sunday, the dog catcher was not on duty, police and fire refused to come out and one branch of the Human Society that was open would not service our county. So my daughter pulled that damn manhole cover away all by herself, and went in, while I held her steady. She scooped up those filthy chicks, one by one, and set them on the grass and the trio safely waddled off into some bushes with a grateful Mama.

As a proud mama, I get bragging rights that my then 16-year old did the same thing these manly men did. The only difference is there wasn't a news crew around to capture it.

KwameKilstrawberry:This is like the 40,000th time I've seen one of these stories since I held my daughter by the ankles while she dove face first into a sewer to rescue baby ducks.

We were on the way somewhere when we noticed a duck in the middle of the street. Since we live in the part of suburban Detroit with no lakes or rivers, we thought that was a little strange. I mean, yeah, we see ducks from time to time, perhaps during migration, but they generally get the hell out of the street when a car is coming. This one wouldn't move an inch. I don't know why I decided to pull over - she just seemed like she in distress. When we approached her, she quacked frantically, and that's when my daughter heard the peeps coming from the bowels of the street. She peeked into the holes of the manhole, and sure enough, there were three little chicks paddling for life. It being a Sunday, the dog catcher was not on duty, police and fire refused to come out and one branch of the Human Society that was open would not service our county. So my daughter pulled that damn manhole cover away all by herself, and went in, while I held her steady. She scooped up those filthy chicks, one by one, and set them on the grass and the trio safely waddled off into some bushes with a grateful Mama.

As a proud mama, I get bragging rights that my then 16-year old did the same thing these manly men did. The only difference is there wasn't a news crew around to capture it.

MrDon:Is there a greater joy then living next door to someone who keeps farm animals as pets? Especially animals that are loud, run around loose and crap all over the place. I'm so jealous.

The tradeoff of dumb kids breaking into/breaking your car, loud traffic/trains, and the 'burbs, don't get me started on anal retentive neighbours, or couples getting in vocal fights or farking, yeah, the city always has it better

/one doesn't need a pig sty to like the country//and don't mess with people who own pigs or know somebody who does,seriously, I'm not joking

octopied:Is anything cuter than baby birds, kittens, or puppies being rescued and returned to their frantic mom? I don't think so.

The only thing that's cuter is seeing some kid crying over the dead baby animals a couple days later after the mother has deserted the offspring that no longer smell like them but like those tall pink things that were handling them.

omeganuepsilon:octopied: Is anything cuter than baby birds, kittens, or puppies being rescued and returned to their frantic mom? I don't think so.

The only thing that's cuter is seeing some kid crying over the dead baby animals a couple days later after the mother has deserted the offspring that no longer smell like them but like those tall pink things that were handling them.

/You are NOT my son anymore!//true enough for birds anyhow

That's just something your parents told you to keep you from handling the chicks.

omeganuepsilon:octopied: Is anything cuter than baby birds, kittens, or puppies being rescued and returned to their frantic mom? I don't think so.

The only thing that's cuter is seeing some kid crying over the dead baby animals a couple days later after the mother has deserted the offspring that no longer smell like them but like those tall pink things that were handling them.

/spoken by someone who apparently has never attempted to pick up an annoyed chicken//it ain't as easy as you'd think///lots of pointy parts, too

Hens are easy (yeah there's pecking, get over it), roosters are hard mode

/beaks, spurs and claws//angry or terrified, they will fark your shiat up///grew up on a farm

Preach on, brother. I had broom duty at 5-6 when gramma went to gather eggs behind her house. The speckled spawn of Satan in that backyard knew no fear: turkeys, dogs, my 1.72m, 90-kg grandmother with hands big as hams - all were fair game. My poor sister got the thrashing of her young life at 3 by the wings and claws of that damn rooster; I exacted revenge for the non-feathered bipeds by giving him the business end of a straw broom every weekend.

/Every week I would ask gramma when his turn in the pot would be//One day the answer was...now. Sw33t, tasty, homemade, hot revenge. My gramma knew how to cook, dammit!

omeganuepsilon:octopied: Is anything cuter than baby birds, kittens, or puppies being rescued and returned to their frantic mom? I don't think so.

The only thing that's cuter is seeing some kid crying over the dead baby animals a couple days later after the mother has deserted the offspring that no longer smell like them but like those tall pink things that were handling them.